


Hallowe'en Drabbles Part Four

by JJ1564



Category: Supernatural
Genre: American Horror Story References, Brotherly Love, Clowns, Drabble Collection, Funny, Gen, Halloween, Sick Dean Winchester, Spells & Enchantments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 13:48:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16476734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJ1564/pseuds/JJ1564
Summary: Five hallowe'en drabbles based on the prompts Let's split up, and you search the cellar..., Candy, Broomstick, Did you hear that? and Blood-curdling





	Hallowe'en Drabbles Part Four

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Hallowe'en Comment Fic challenge on LJ's spn-bigpretzel here...
> 
> https://spn-bigpretzel.livejournal.com/1202798.html

**LET'S SPLIT UP, AND YOU SEARCH THE CELLAR**

“Let's split up, and you search the cellar, he said. It’ll be fine, he said.” Dean muttered to himself as he shone his torch around the cluttered, creepy-looking cellar. “I bet there’re spiders the size of freakin’ dinner plates down here.” He shuddered as he avoided a huge cobweb. “If I get eaten by Shelob’s American cousin, I’ll blame you, Sammy.”

Dean saw a doorway in the wall and knew he should call Sam, but his pride stopped him. He opened it and walked in. there were several human skeletons in what looked like a medieval torture chamber. Dean turned to retreat, but the door slammed behind him and he couldn’t open it.

He pulled out his cell, and of course there was no reception. He kept his back to the door and his eyes wide open as he waited for Sam to find him. Thankfully he’d loaded his shotgun with salt and boy did he need it, as the ghosts of the torture victims came at him. Sam eventually pried the door open and helped Dean get out.

“Next time you can search the freakin’ cellar!” Dean grumbled.

**CANDY**

“You okay in there, Dean?” Sam called through the bathroom door.  
“Jus’ peachy.” Dean groaned, holding his gurgling, griping stomach.  
When he emerged, white-faced and exhausted, Sam chided him. “I told you not to eat so much candy. It was for the trick or treaters.”  
“Sam, we live in a freakin’ bunker. We won’t get any trick or treaters.”  
“It was actually for Jack and Cas. They’ve never had a traditional Halloween and I thought...”  
“Damn, way to make me feel worse.”  
Sam grinned. “Luckily, I stashed most of it in my room.”  
“Um, ‘bout that...” Dean shrugged.  
“Dean, you didn’t!”  
“I know all your hiding places, Sammy.”

**BROOMSTICK**

Dean held on to the slender broom handle for dear life as he soared above Lawrence and the surrounding farmland. He thought he was going to throw up or pass out, neither of which seemed a good idea at god-knows-how-many feet above ground. He hated flying in a plane, let alone on a friggin’ broomstick.

He prayed for Cas to help, as he had no clue how he was supposed to get down. He tried to remember how Harry Potter rode his broomstick and to imagine that he was a skilled Quidditch player on a Nimbus 2000.

Suddenly he was lowered gently to the ground, right outside the Bunker.

“Jeez, what took you so long, Cas?” Dean grumbled, ignoring the way his teeth chattered.

“It seems it wasn’t just you who pissed off the witch.” Cas replied. “I had to rescue Sam from the clowns chasing him around the Bunker.”

**DID YOU HEAR THAT?**

Dean hated sleeping in the great wide open, but sometimes it was necessary. Like now, when they’d hunted down a wendigo in a large forest and were both too exhausted, bruised and battered to trudge back to civilization.

Sam was on watch while Dean tried to sleep on the lumpy ground. He was drifting off when he heard a rustling sound. “Sammy, did you hear that?”

Sam nodded and reached for the rifle. He stood up slowly and peered around. “Can’t see anything,” he whispered, “but I’ll check it out.”

“Wait for me,” Dean replied, “could be a bear or something.”

They circled around their makeshift camp but couldn’t see anything, which wasn’t comforting. Then a huge creature burst through the undergrowth behind Dean.

“Watch out, Dean!” Sam yelled.

Dean side-stepped as a moose hurtled past him into the forest.

“Hey Sammy,” Dean grinned “If you wanna follow your girl, go ahead.”

“I hate you.”

**BLOOD-CURDLING**

The grotesque faces of the clowns were truly horrific, with ugly, deformed grins. Sam knew it was just people behind the masks but that didn’t stop the shiver of fear. He hated circus clowns, and these guys were so much worse. They circled their hapless victim, a local politician, and started to stab at her.

Sam watched helplessly, as her blood-curdling screams filled the air. He wanted to shut his eyes and put his fingers in his ears.

“You okay there, Sammy?” Dean asked.

“No. This is sick.” Sam groaned. “I should never have let you talk me into watching American Horror.”

“It’s called Cult, I didn’t know they’d be clowns in it.” Dean looked apologetic. “Want me change channels?”

“No, I need to know what happens next.”

“Hey, you can come sit with me.” Dean moved over to make space for Sam on the couch.

“Thanks.” Sam smiled gratefully.


End file.
